


dreaming about the things that we could be

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last week of exam period, and Combeferre hasn't been getting very much sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dreaming about the things that we could be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [annaroserae](http://annaroserae.tumblr.com/)'s prompt based on [this post](http://prouvaireiant.tumblr.com/post/76042062803/) by [prouvaireiant](http://prouvaireiant.tumblr.com/).

It's three o'clock in the morning and the glow that comes from under Courfeyrac's door tells him that the light in the lounge room is still on. Courfeyrac should be asleep. _Everyone_ should be asleep and he gets out of bed with a sigh, because he knows exactly why he's woken up at this time of the early morning.

Opening his door, he squints against the light as he shuffles towards the couch where, predictably, he finds Combeferre sitting with his laptop open on the table in front of him, surrounded by coffee mugs. There's a good reason Combeferre collects coffee mugs and even if he sticks to his favourites most of the time, he ends up using them as they near the end of every semester. 

"You should be asleep," Combeferre tells him, voice rough with exhaustion.

" _You_ should be asleep," Courfeyrac retorts. "You're more likely to perform better on your exams after you've had a decent night's sleep—that's what you keep telling me. Maybe take some of your own advice?"

Combeferre drags his gaze away from his laptop and even with his glasses on, the bags under his eyes are incredibly obvious. "Not an exam. I have to submit this assignment tomorrow morning and it needs to be perfect."

"I'm sure it already is," Courfeyrac assures him, sitting beside Combeferre and rubbing his back soothingly and smiling when Combeferre leans into his touch. He glances at the screen to confirm what he already knows. "This is the essay you finished this afternoon. There's no use in rewriting sentence after sentence, especially not at this time of night. Just go to bed. Please?"

"I'm nearly done," Combeferre replies, and Courfeyrac is certain that it's a lie. "Look, I'm up to the second last paragraph. Let me just get to the end and then I'll sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Courfeyrac sighs, pulling his knees up to his chest and settling back into the couch. "But I'm going to sit here with you until you finish, okay?"

"You don't have to do that."

"And I told you, you don't have to keep rewriting sentences just to make sure they're perfect. They're already perfect."

Combeferre huffs quietly and turns to Courfeyrac with a small smile. "Thanks."

—«·»—

Courfeyrac wakes up the next morning to find that he's fallen asleep on the couch. There's a pillow under his head and a warm blanket over him and he lifts his head as he hears the sound of a mug being set down on the table, accompanied by the wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"Good morning," Combeferre greets with a warm smile. "Sorry, I should have woken you so you could go back to bed, but you looked comfortable there."

Stifling a yawn against his hand, Courfeyrac smiles in return. "Thanks for the pillow and blanket. Did you finish looking over your essay?"

"I did. It's all printed and ready to be handed in."

"Good," Courfeyrac nods. "Did you get much sleep?"

Combeferre's smile slips away and Courfeyrac sighs, immediately knowing the answer for himself.

"You haven't slept at all, have you?"

"I couldn't," Combeferre shrugs. "I tried, but I was too restless to. Then the sun started rising and I figured that there was no point. Besides, I didn't want to oversleep."

Courfeyrac stifles yet another yawn and reaches for his coffee. "You're going to go and submit your assignment, and then you're going to come back here and take a nap before you do anything else. I'm going to be studying here until my exam this afternoon, so I'm going to be keeping an eye on you, okay?"

"I can't nap, Courfeyrac, I have an exam tomorrow that I need to study for."

"A twenty minute nap," Courfeyrac says firmly. "This is non-negotiable. Eat your breakfast, go take a shower, submit your assignment and come back here for a nap before you even look at your notes for tomorrow's exam."

They've been friends for long enough that Combeferre knows better than to argue. He simply sighs and drains the remainder of his coffee before going off to shower.

True to his word, Courfeyrac sets up his study material on the couch while Combeferre is out, putting the pillow and blanket away because he's still a bit tired himself and it's a little too tempting to take a nap himself. He makes himself more coffee and settles down to study.

Combeferre is back just under half an hour later, with a takeaway cup of coffee that he places by Courfeyrac's nearly-empty mug of coffee. 

"I bought myself a coffee without really thinking about it and it wasn't until I was walking away from the café that I realised that it's probably not a good idea if you're going to make me take a nap."

Courfeyrac smiles, accepting the cup. It's still hot and they both tend to take their coffee the same way, so it's perfect. "Thank you. Now, off to bed with you. I'll set a twenty minute alarm on my phone, and I'll wake you up once it goes off."

"If it's all the same," Combeferre says, sitting down on the other side of the couch. "Do you mind if I sleep here? If I get into my bed, I might not want to get back out."

"Which, on any other day, would be a good thing," Courfeyrac replies, but he smiles, squeezing Combeferre's arm as he stands. "You sit right here and I'll get the pillow and blanket out for you."

Combeferre curls up against the arm of the couch, the blanket pulled up around his shoulders, his glasses folded neatly on the table beside Courfeyrac's cup of coffee. He's asleep the moment his head touches the pillow and Courfeyrac is tempted to let him sleep for longer than just twenty minutes, if not for the fact that he knows Combeferre would not appreciate the lost time once he wakes. 

It takes more effort than it should to drag his gaze away from Combeferre but Courfeyrac does with a soft sigh, turning back to his notes and continuing to study.

—«·»—

By the end of the week, they're exhausted. Combeferre has it the worst, because while he's made sure that Courfeyrac has been getting enough sleep, he hasn't been doing the same for himself. His final exam is on Friday afternoon and as soon as it's done, they're heading off to the Musain for the first meeting that the group's been able to manage for the last three weeks due to most of them being busy with exams.

Enjolras is full of pent-up energy from the past few weeks and he burns bright as ever, glad to be done with his exams so that he can focus his efforts on something he actually finds worthwhile. As usual, Combeferre is prepared with all the information that Enjolras has, plus any extra research that Enjolras needs to back up his arguments. Courfeyrac is both amazed that Combeferre has managed the time to gather all of this in between studying, and irritated because he knows that this is what Combeferre was doing instead of sleeping, and if Enjolras knew that, he would never have asked Combeferre to do it in the first place. As much as Combeferre insists on taking care of all of his friends, he needs someone to do the same for him. Courfeyrac figures that maybe he could be that person, as he listens to Enjolras talk about organising another rally, as he watches Combeferre take notes, as he thinks aloud about the different places they could possibly hold the rally and the likelihood of drawing in greater numbers. 

"Look, when it comes to numbers," Combeferre says, covering his mouth to hide a yawn, "I don't think that it's worth doing anything while classes are broken up for the mid-semester break. We're best off using this time to properly look at the research we've done and figure out a good way of presenting it."

"Yeah," Grantaire agrees from the back of the room, "we don't want to make it another snooze fest like the last time, where Enjolras just stood there and dumped more information on people than they knew what to do with."

Enjolras bristles at that and there's a quiet sigh that goes around the room as they all settle themselves in for an argument. Combeferre yawns again, the empty mug of coffee in front of him clearly not having helped at all. He rests his chin in his hand as he watches them argue, his eyelids drooping. Courfeyrac nudges him gently with a knee and gets a tired look in reply. With a fond smile, Courfeyrac shifts his attention to the argument, feeling Combeferre relax beside him.

"—And you might think that it was a boring information dump, but that's not what the numbers say. We had an increase in traffic to our blog and _several_ new followers on twitter. Combeferre, you have the statistics with you, don't you—?" Enjolras abruptly falls silent as he turns to Combeferre and sees that he's asleep, face pressed into the hand propping his chin up, his glasses askew. 

There's a silence that follows, because Combeferre has never done this, Combeferre doesn't just _fall asleep_ mid-discussion. Enjolras' brow furrows and he looks like he's going to walk over to Combeferre to wake him. Courfeyrac wraps his arm around Combeferre's shoulders before Enjolras can take a step, staring him down.

"Let him sleep," Courfeyrac whispers, pulling Combeferre close. Tired as he is, Combeferre is easy to manoeuvre, leaning into Courfeyrac's side and resting his head on Courfeyrac's shoulder, humming contently and relaxing against him. 

"I was going to wake him up and send him home," Enjolras says, frowning. "Was it the exam stress?"

"Partly," Courfeyrac replies quietly, stroking his fingers over Combeferre's undercut. "He just hasn't been getting enough sleep lately. Keep going, just let him nap for a while."

Enjolras turns back to Grantaire, clearing his throat, both of them reluctant to continue arguing while Combeferre is asleep. The rest of them break off into smaller conversations and Courfeyrac turns his attention to Combeferre, resting their heads together as he keeps an eye on the time, unsure if he should let Combeferre wake on his own or let him nap for twenty minutes, the way that Courfeyrac has been getting him to all week. 

Enjolras sits on Courfeyrac's other side, discussing when and where to hold the rally and the cost versus benefit of holding it the first week students are due back, compared to waiting an extra week or two. Exactly twenty minutes later, Combeferre stirs, nuzzling against Courfeyrac's neck and making him lose his train of thought mid-sentence. Combeferre tenses, cursing under his breath as he lifts his head. 

"I'm sorry—" he begins, but Courfeyrac takes his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Unless you're going to apologise for not getting enough sleep this week and completely exhausting yourself, I don't want to hear it."

Combeferre smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

Tapping him on the nose, Courfeyrac sighs. "Just don't do it again, okay? Take care of yourself. I'm going to make sure you do."

Combeferre's smile widens and he leans into Courfeyrac's side again, resting their heads together. 

"I think it's best if we just leave things here for today," Enjolras speaks up, looking around the room as the others nod in agreement. "Relax for a week and we'll regroup next week, okay?"

Hanging back as the others leave, Enjolras puts his hand on Combeferre's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, okay? I don't want you exhausting yourself."

"Yeah," Combeferre nods. "I'll be more careful."

"Come on," Courfeyrac says, taking Combeferre's hand. "Let's go home."

—«·»—

They get as far as the couch before they both collapse into an exhausted heap. Combeferre wraps his arms around Courfeyrac, holding him close and it's uncomfortable, it's cramped, and they're better of moving to either of their beds because both of them are bigger than the couch. Except Courfeyrac doesn't want to go anywhere, lying on his side and tangling his legs with Combeferre's, wrapping an arm around him and looking up at him with a tired smile.

"You take such good care of me," Combeferre murmurs, as Courfeyrac takes his glasses off for him and puts them aside. "I'm so lucky I have you."

"Likewise," Courfeyrac whispers, tucking his head under Combeferre's chin because he can't look Combeferre in the eye when they're like this, when Courfeyrac feels vulnerable and his relationship with Combeferre doesn't feel as platonic as it should. 

"Love you," Combeferre mumbles against Courfeyrac's hair, and then he's asleep. Courfeyrac lies there, suddenly too alert to fall asleep, his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest. He already knows that he and Combeferre love each other, it's impossible not to when they've been best friends for so long, but it's not something that they've ever put into words before and even if Combeferre doesn't mean it the way Courfeyrac wishes he would, it's still exhilarating to hear. 

In his sleep, Combeferre pulls Courfeyrac against him more firmly and it's warm in his arms, it's safe, and Courfeyrac finally finds himself drifting off to sleep. 

When he wakes up, he's not on the couch any more, and Combeferre isn't beside him. He's in his own bed and he's been tucked in, the blinds on his windows closed. He sits up, checking the time as he gets out of bed. His watch reads twelve, but he's still not sure how long he's been asleep for until he steps out of his dark room and sees the sunlight in the lounge. Combeferre is in the kitchen and he turns around as he hears Courfeyrac approaching, giving him a small smile.

"Good morning. I was about to come and wake you just now, actually. I just started making coffee." 

"You're the best. I should be taking care of _you_ , after the week you've had. Instead, I slept so deeply I don't even remember waking up and moving to my room."

"Ah, you didn't," Combeferre coughs awkwardly. "I… woke up and I was afraid that I'd push you off the couch or something while we were sleeping, so…"

"You carried me to bed," Courfeyrac guesses, and the very thought of that makes his stomach twist strangely, though not entirely in an unpleasant way.

"I wanted you to be comfortable—" Combeferre begins and then cuts himself off, staring into the distance for a moment before he sighs heavily. "Okay, no, I think we need to talk. I didn't think I'd do this when we were still so exhausted, but if anything, this week has made me realise that I _need_ to say this, Courfeyrac, and I don't want to scare you off, or make you uncomfortable, and I sincerely hope that you don't think less of me for it, but…"

Crossing the room so that he's standing directly in front of Combeferre, Courfeyrac looks up at him with a smile. "Tell me."

"I don't know if you heard me," Combeferre says in a quiet voice, before he clears his throat and continues speaking, a little louder this time, "I don't even know if I wanted you to, but last night before we went to sleep, I told you that I love you."

"I heard it," Courfeyrac replies cautiously, not wanting to get ahead of himself and allow himself to hope for things, only to be disappointed. "You know I love you too."

A smile flickers across Combeferre's face and he nods. "I do. And I'm grateful for it, Courfeyrac, I meant it when I said that I'm lucky to have you."

"And I meant it back."

"I _love you_ ," Combeferre says in a rush. "I don't want to say _more_ than friends, because it implies that romantic relationships somehow have more substance and we both know that's not the case, but I mean—beyond friends, perhaps. I love you as a friend, and I also love you—"

"Combeferre," Courfeyrac interrupts, laughing softly, and he blames the tears in his eyes on exhaustion because he is _not_ going to cry just because his best friend loves him in the same way that he loves his best friend. Then he blinks and he can't deny the tears any longer as they roll down his cheeks and he steps into Combeferre's space, and Combeferre lets him, just as he always has, but there's a hopeful smile on his face, like he genuinely believes that Courfeyrac could give him the world, and Courfeyrac _wants to_ , he wants to give Combeferre everything he possibly can and perhaps love is a good place to start.

"I love you too," he whispers, taking Combeferre's hands, tilting his face up and standing on his tiptoes as Combeferre leans into him.

Their lips crash together with enough force that it sends Courfeyrac staggering back a step before Combeferre steadies them and they laugh against each other's mouths before trying again. Courfeyrac's kissed several people before and he knows that Combeferre has too, but this still feels like a first, hesitant and tentative, both of them smiling too much to kiss for very long anyway. 

"I know it's not much, as far as first dates go," Combeferre murmurs, "but I kind of want to sit on the couch with you and watch movies all day while we cuddle." 

"That sounds perfect to me," Courfeyrac does, and it genuinely does. He and Combeferre love each other and as far as Courfeyrac is concerned, _everything_ is perfect right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Counting Stars by OneRepublic, because I could not let the opportunity pass me by.


End file.
